Poetry Girl

Today I was doing my normal COVID pre-work routine (coffee, stretch, cardio) and this random rhyme popped into my head. Not all at once though; it came in a few words at a time until I ended up with a little poem.

I kept saying this poem in my head, over and over—it wouldn’t leave me alone. It was so persistent I had to stop and write it down! The only thing I could find in the moment was my planner, so now there are a few lines of a poem randomly next to my to-do list for today. 🙂

Never in my life have I considered myself a poet, but that made me wonder: Is that what poets do all the time?

Are songwriters consumed by a melody?

Do colors blur the vision of the artist?

Will a dancer’s feet twitch with the steps?

Honestly, ya girl is NOT an innovator. Give me a list of tasks, I’ll do ‘em—well and ahead of schedule too! Ask me to come up with what tasks *should* be done…thanks, but no thanks.

That’s what fascinates me about humans and our brains! We all have different thought processes and desires and talents. I love learning about how people think. So I’ve got a call to action for y’all:

If you’re a creator, I’d love to hear more about your creative process. Please share in the comments!

The Crash (A Hate Poem for Depression)

The Crash is The Crash because it hits you.  Hard.

The Crash laughs at you for thinking everything would be okay. “When has it ever been okay?  When have you ever been okay?”

The Crash wakes you up exhausted after a full night’s sleep.  Keeps you up at night.  Turns your stomach.  Takes your breath.

The Crash begs you to stay inside.  “You’re too weak to make it through the day.  You can’t even get out of this bed.”

Sometimes, The Crash wins.  You stay.  Cry.  Dry your tears. Cry. Just…cry. 

Sometimes, you can’t (won’t) stay.  You get up because you have to, need to.

The Crash vows to destroy your day anyway.  

The Crash ruins your makeup before you finish putting it on, keeps a gleeful tally of how many times you cover the tracks of tears on your cheeks.

The Crash brings you to tears anywhere:  walking into work, in the produce section of the grocery store, on a treadmill at the gym.  The Crash hopes no one notices and smirks when they don’t.  “When has anyone ever noticed you?”

The Crash mocks the brave face you put on. Chuckles when you say, text, think, “I’m fine.” “You just keep on wearing that fake smile, girl. You may fool them, but you won’t fool me.”

You work through it. You always do. But…

The Crash always happens again.